


Call Me Yours

by grbee



Category: Knives Out (2019)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, It’s going to be cute and romantic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:08:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22215349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grbee/pseuds/grbee
Summary: Benoit goes to help Marta take care of things at the house.
Relationships: Benoit Blanc/Marta Cabrera
Comments: 5
Kudos: 95





	1. A Call in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy ~

Marta’s scream rang in his ears. He had watched, horrified, stunned and rooted to the spot as Ransom tacked her with a knife. Benoit willed himself to do something, anything, but he was frozen where he stood. He could only listen to Marta’s scream and the dull thunk of the knife. 

Needless to say, he didn’t sleep well anymore. In his dreams the knives were much more real and deadly than the one Ransom had attacked Marta with. Every time he closed his eyes he watched it over again, and despite any real life ‘happy ending,’ he still blamed himself. His dreams could have very well been a reality and it was his fault. How could he have been so careless as to put that sweet Ms. Cabrera in danger? 

Benoit sipped his whiskey and stared into his fireplace, deep in thought. It was a month after he was first called to investigate Harlan Thrombey’s death. The murder trial was still ongoing and would likely stretch for another month the way that Ransom’s lawyers were playing it. Turns out the family had a few connections of their own and had managed to finance themselves a decent legal team. That cruel family was tenacious too, dragging poor Marta back into the whole process. She had been called to testify twice. Benoit had been there, of course, he had to testify too. But he was used to doing so, as such was the nature of his job. But Marta? He could tell it wasn’t easy for her, having to relive and relate almost dying in front of a live audience. She put on a strong face, but Benoit could tell it was getting to her. By God it was getting to him too. 

It was past midnight when his phone rang, startling him out of his chair and his uneasy sleep. He picked up the call on the fourth ring. “Detective Benoit Blanc speaking,” he coughed out, sleep and whisky caught in his throat. “Detective? It’s me, Marta Cabrera. I hope I’m not bothering you, I know it’s late.”

“Ms. Cabrera, a woman as lovely as yourself could never be a bother at any hour,” he said genteelly, beadily blinking the the sleep out of his eyes. It was good to hear Marta’s voice. “Though, my dear, I am inclined to ask what it is that could be keeping you at this hour?”  
“I- I’m having a rough time with this all and I was wondering if I could just, um, talk with you for a bit.. I’m-it’s been really hard to sleep and the house is so big and empty and I just can’t…” Benoit could hear the ache in her voice and his heart went out to her. “Now Ms. Cabrera, who am I to say no to a chat with my wonderful partner? My dear, I am at your service.”   
“I really appreciate it Detective. I am really sorry I called so late.”

“Ms. Cabrera, I could never feel imposed upon by you, please continue. What’s wrong?”

“It’s the nightmares. I haven’t been able to sleep. And I think it’s getting to me, in this house where it all happened. And I keep thinking I hear creaking or see shadows in the window… and I know Ransom’s locked away but it still… and my mom and sister, I told them to go on that cruise while I get this all sorted out but now I’m alone and I- I just wanted to talk to someone I trust.” 

Benoit’s heart broke. “Now listen here Ms. Marta Cabrera, and if you don’t mind my boldness in saying so, I think you need more than telephone talkin. Dear girl, would you be opposed to me coming by for a while and staying near, to help out of course with it all, until this whole Thrombey mess is said and done?” 

“Detective, I- I couldn’t possibly ask that of you.”

“Now Ms. Cabrera you aren’t askin, I’m offerin, and I will happily be on my way over, if you’ll permit me.” He held his breath, hoping he hadn’t been to forward with the whole matter. But then again, it wasn’t every day Marta Cabrera called for help, and she had called him.

“I think that would be very kind of you, Detective. Yes, you are more than welcome over.” Benoit smiled. “Then I shall be over first thing tomorrow morning. Will you be quite alright on your own tonight?”

“Yes, I think I can manage for tonight. Thanks again, Detective.”

“But of course, my dear. And please, call me Benoit.” 

“Oh, alright but then you should call me Marta.”

“It’s a deal, Marta. See you tomorrow.” A yawn came through the receiver, “See you tomorrow, Benoit.”  
Benoit stared at the phone in his hand long after the call clicked. If Marta Cabrera needed him, and by the sound of it she needed him, then he was going to be there, he decided resolutely. He finished the last gulp of his whiskey, placed the glass in the sink, and lumbered off to bed. 

The last thought he processed as he drifted to sleep was Marta’s smiling face. And to tell you what? For the first time in a month, he slept soundly.


	2. Crying on the Couch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benoit and Marta brave the room where Marta was almost killed.

It was 10 o’ clock sharp when Benoit pulled up to the large manor. He gave a cherry wave to Mr. Prufrock the security guard on his way down the drive and the man opened the gate with a smile. “Good to see you Detective!” “And you Mr. Prufrock!” He pulled into the driveway in front of the house and made his way up the steps. He reached his arm out to knock when the door flung open and Marta all but tackled him into a hug. 

Surprised, he paused before relaxing and wrapping his arms around her. Her face was tucked into his coat where he couldn’t see her expression, but he felt the strength in her grip and knew that this was a hug much needed. 

“Thank you for coming,” she murmured to him. He just nodded back softly; he was glad he came. They stood there for a long moment before Marta loosened her grip and took a step back. “Come inside,” she smiled at him softly, “I just made a fresh pot of coffee.” Benoit shook his head with a smile, “Marta, my dear, hot coffee would be gravy on biscuits.” That got a laugh out of her, a small laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. 

Marta insisted on preparing both coffees. “Cream and sugar?” She asked, casting him a look over her shoulder. “Yes and yes, please,” he replied eagerly. “How did that case turn out? The one you were working on, the one with the famous aquarium maker?” She placed their coffees on the table and sat down across from him. For the next hour Benoit filled Marta in on his latest case. It had turned out that the mailman had been the mystery murderer, having suspecting the victim of sleeping with his wife (and rightfully so!). 

After coffee, Marta showed him around the house. Walking from room to room, she told him about her past month. “After things started to settle down, I moved into the house full time. After we got my Mama’s green card, they wanted to celebrate. I bought us all cruise tickets, but then Ransom’s lawyers sent me a summons for the middle of the trip. I told them to go without me, God knows there’s enough stuff to do around here.” Benoit grimaced at the idea of Marta being kept in town by the Thrombey’s antics, but let her continue without interrupting. “Mostly I’ve just been trying to go through each room and decide what I want to donate.” 

She paused as they reached the door to the sitting room. “Have you been back in there?” Benoit asked gently. “Not since, no,” she sounded faraway, but looked up when he touched her shoulder. “We don’t have to, I’m sure there’s plenty else to tackle.” She gave him a long look before squaring her shoulders, “No time like the present. Let’s just get it out of the way.” She opened the door resolutely, but stepped in cautiously. Benoit followed, keeping a careful eye on his host. It’s not everyday you have to spend time in a room you were almost murdered in. 

For the most part, Marta seemed to be keeping herself together much more than could be expected. She had her arms wrapped around herself loosely and she sat down in the sofa in the corner of the room. Benoit came over and took a seat next to her. He kept his eyes trained on her face. Her eyes were fixed in the one spot he knew he could not look. He offered a supporting hand and she took it, clasping it between her own hands. 

“It all happened so fast,” she began softly, “it’s weird to think about it. How I could have died right there. How I lived by sheer luck of him grabbing a trick knife instead of a real one.” A few tears started to well in her kind brown eyes and Benoit gave her hands a gentle squeeze. “What if I had died right there? Did I even tell Mama or Alicia that I loved them that morning?” She turned her gaze onto him, and he reached up to gently wipe away the tears falling down her cheeks. “Benoit, I could have died,” she repeated, and started to bawl. “Aww now, come here,” he muttered softly, pulling her into his arms. She sobbed into his shoulder and he rubbed her back comfortingly. He knew there wasn’t much he could say, so he just held her as she cried. 

Benoit tried not to let himself get too upset, Marta needed him right now. He was no use to her if he got caught up in the fact that it was all his fault. 

It was all his fault.

Marta almost died in this room and it was all his fault. 

Benoit gritted his teeth, but a few smoldering angry tears pooled in his eyes. Marta must have felt his breath catch because suddenly she pulled away. “Benoit? Benoit, are you okay?” She looked at him, her puffy face full of concern, and it was as if her gaze broke the last of his willpower. He put his face in his hands as the tears started to fall. “Marta, my dear, I am so very sorry. I didn’t mean to let this happen. I should have never let him near you. But I have no business cryin’ when- when I should be there for you.. Oh! Marta you almost died.”

“Benoit, it’s okay. It’s okay, I’m here. I’m here and he’s gone and he can’t hurt me anymore. It’s not your fault, you couldn’t have known.”

“But-“ 

“No but’s. Benoit, I don’t blame you, so stop blaming yourself. Look at me, Benoit.” Slowly he raised his head to look her in the eye. “Please don’t blame yourself,” she asked softly but firmly. She held his gaze until he gave a small nod in response. She leaned over and gave him a hug and he held her tightly. After several minutes, the tears subsided and they sat there together, still embraced. Slowly, they untangled themselves and sat on the couch quietly. 

Benoit broke the silence first, “I think we might have had enough of this room today, yeah?” He looked sideways at Marta as she took a minute to respond. “I want,” she started, her voice still gravely from crying, “I want to get something done in here today.” She stood up and straightened her sweater, pushing up the sleeves. “Come. Help me roll up this rug, I never want to see it again.”

Benoit was happy to comply.


	3. Banana pancakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y’all, long time no post! I’ve been meaning to finish this chapter for a while now, but life got to me lol. Anyway, tell me what you think! :^)

He woke to a scream. In an instant he was out of bed, running up the staircase and down the hall. “Marta!” He yelled, throwing open the door. She was sitting in her bed, pale faced and tear marks streamed down her cheeks. “Marta..” he whispered to her, taking a soft step toward her, “I’m here.” Her big brown eyes took a moment to focus on him, but when they did she fell into his arms. “Oh Benoit,” she cried, shaking in his grasp. He pulled her close, sitting next to her on the bed, and stroked her hair and she cried. “I’m here, I’m here.” He repeated gently. “Nobody’s gonna hurt you anymore.”

Eventually her breathing leveled out, and Benoit guessed that she had finally fallen asleep. Fallen asleep... in his lap. There was no hope of him slipping out from underneath her without waking her, and goodness knows that girl needed some uninterrupted sleep. So he sat still, looking at the young woman cradled against him and trying not to think about the fact that it was his fault. _She almost died during to his carelessness and hubris and it was his fault. His fault that she was now plagued by nightmares of almost dying. His- **STOP**_. He couldn’t be doing this right now. It wasn’t helpful or constructive and he needed to be there for Marta. _Think of something else_ , he told himself. So he thought of Marta.

This wonderfully kind and brave woman that was sleeping in his arms. _She had called him. Him. He was the one she had called. Marta trusted him._

He knew that he had feelings. How could he help it? She was such a good person, so kind and caring. She was funny and smart and at some point during the past week he realized he couldn’t lie to himself anymore. He babbled nonsense around her and made more dumb jokes than he ever had just to hear her laugh. He had fallen for Marta Cabrera, there was no denying it. _But what use was it?_ They were just friends, and Marta needed a friend right now, not the feelings of a silly old man. There wasn’t any point in even acknowledging it anyway.

—

Benoit woke in the morning alone. A blanket had been placed on him and a pillow tucked behind his neck. He was still wicked sore from sleeping upright, but he did appreciate the gesture. He could hear shuffling downstairs and when he got to the stairwell he had another thing to appreciate.

 _PANCAKES_.

He hurried down the stairs to the kitchen where Marta was cooking up a storm. She tossed him a glance and giggled, “morning sleepyhead!” Benoit became aware of his unfortunate bed head in the reflection of the kitchen window and decidedly ignored it. “Good morning, Marta!” He shuffled over to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup. “Are those pancakes I smell?” He said peeking over her shoulder. “ _Banana_ pancakes.”

“ _Banana_?? Ms. Cabrera I haven’t heard such lovely news in all my life.” Marta laughed at this.

“Your whole life? That’s a long time old man.”

Benoit laughed too, putting on a theatrical old voice, squinting into the distance, “My dear girl, when I was your age we had to work a month to afford such a luxury of a banana.” This brought a full belly chortle out of Marta to the delight of Benoit.

“Take your pancakes you geezer!” She said breathlessly, passing him the platter, trying to sound stern over her laughter.

Benoit complied happily, setting the platter in the center of the table and grabbing a few plates from the cabinet and utensils from the drawers. Marta pulled up the seat across from him, and they started to eat.

“So what’s the game plan for today, Watson?”  
Marta gave him a lopsided grin and picked up a pen from the table. Grabbing her napkin, she wrote as she thought out loud. “Well, we still need to clear out the upstairs rooms, stop by Goodwill to donate the rest of the stuff, and then probably start looking for some new furniture.”  
Benoit hummed to himself, feeling weirdly content in this moment. “Big day, then. Thank goodness we had a proper breakfast to start us off.” He announced, sparing a wink toward Marta. If he wasn’t imagining it he thought he saw her blush, but Benoit decided that he was imagining things.

Clearing his throat he got up and washed both their plates. “Well let me go get dressed and fix this damned bed-head and we can get crackin.”

He made his way to the staircase and was only a couple of steps up before she called after him. “Hurry up old man! I can’t wait all day!” Her cheerful teasing voice made his heart ache and just for once he was glad that Marta couldn’t see his face.


	4. Just a Dance

Furniture shopping was fun. Benoit had a secret love for decorating that Marta soon discovered as they lightly debated buying the green chaise versus the blue loveseat for the drawing room. 

“Marta, I respect your eye for color, but a big house simply cannot go without a respectable chaise.” 

“Benoit, I disagree, the green doesn’t go with the gold curtains we got. Although the chaise _is_ pretty comfy.” 

They ended up compromising, the chaise would go in the first floor sitting room, whereas the loveseat would go in the drawing room. They also bought rugs, sofas, a couple of beds and some dressers. 

The rest of the day was a whirlwind of movers and directing which piece went where. Marta took charge of directing movers and Benoit went around positioning everything to fit just right. They took turns refilling each other’s coffee. Marta took her coffee with two creams and two sugars (and the occasional dash of vanilla, when luxury allowed). She liked to tease Benoit about his coffee, taken with a dash of heavy cream and honey, and made sure to remind him to add some coffee to his mug once in a while. 

By the end of the day both of them were sore and mentally worn, but grateful to have finished the job. The rooms looked wonderful, happy and welcoming, and were all but finished. They lounged on the sofa, eating takeout and admiring their handiwork. 

“I like it.” Marta said decisively, glancing toward Benoit. “It’s going to work perfectly.” He quirked his eyebrow at her, “my dear you still haven’t told me what exactly it’s going to be for.” 

“That’s for me to know, and you to find out, detective.” She said with a goofy smile, pointing her chopsticks at him pointedly. He laughed at that. “Well I promise you I will get to the bottom of this mystery. The truth will find its way to me!” He said mock-seriously, slurping up a noodle and sending Marta into a fit of giggles. They fell into a contented silence for a while and Benoit secretly hoped things could stay like this. Him and Marta, enjoying the moment, but just happy to be with each other. But he was getting ahead of himself. _Marta just saw him as a friend after all, no need to challenge that relationship and risk losing moments like these_.

Marta hopped up out of her chair and held out her hand, "No need to try and solve the mystery tonight, silly." He shook his head at her teasing voice and put his takeout aside. "Alright, but I'm going to figure it out one of these days," he mock grumbled, "where are we going anyway?" She grabbed his hand and began to lead him downstairs. "You'll see in a minute!" The detective followed along, taking notice of the fact that Marta was _holding his hand_. They went down through the kitchen and out into the backyard. As she led him out the back door, she flipped a switch on the wall and the yard lit up. It was a bright and happy contrast to the yard the Thrombey's had let it become. There was comfy looking outdoor furniture and string lights crossing over the patio, and pretty flowers along the walk. Benoit gaped, "Why, Marta. This... this is beautiful. When did you have time to do all this?" She smiled at him. "I had ordered furniture a few days before you came and had been trying to tackle the garden by myself. Everything got here today so I figured it's the one place we haven't got to properly appreciate yet." 

It was a warm night for March and appreciate Benoit did. He appreciated the feel of Marta's hand in his and how the sting lights of the patio danced in her eyes. She met his gaze and he glanced away from her with a bashful cough. Mama always did say he was a romantic. “I’m a big fan of the daffodils,” he said lightly, trying to keep his thoughts away from the feelings pulling at his heart. He really did like the daffodils, how the yellow flower fit so well in the space and how carefully they had been arranged. He thought about the thoughtful woman beside him who was so smart and kind, and-- “Benoit?” 

“I’m sorry Marta, what were you saying?” Benoit was kicking himself mentally. “I asked if you wanted to dance.” She said simply. Benoit realized that there was music playing. It was a soft song, one he couldn’t pick out the lyrics, but he could feel the slow tempo. He cleared his throat, “my dear, it would be my honor to dance with you.” She gave him a soft smile and came to face him, grabbing his shoulder with her other hand. He let his arm find her waist and they began to dance. It was nothing professional or graceful but it sure was magical. Benoit held his breath, almost afraid of shattering the moment. He marveled at the woman in his arms, standing so close to him he could hardly see her face, and they danced. When the song ended, they stood, still embraced, their bodies inches away from each other. 

After a moment, Benoit gently stepped back. Looking away to hide the blush burning his face, he cleared his throat, “Well, I’d better head off to sleep. Goodnight Marta.” He got up and started off, not wanting to make his exit any worse. “Oh! Goodnight Benoit, sleep well!” He heard her call after him, and if he wasn’t imagining it, she sounded kind of… _sad_ ? Could he be right? He stopped at the top stair but shook his head. _No, he was imaging things_ , _that was the only explanation_. This wasn’t anything more than just a dance. 


End file.
